He had to borrow body parts
from his close friends for our wedding.
Everything fit except his carpal bones
and phalanges—too thin.
The ring kept sliding off at the reception.

Yes, my scatter-brained skull
didn’t take good care of his bones.
He lost his tibias
in a fight with a burlier corpse
who teased him for wanting to marry into flesh.
A hag used his femora to flavor a delicious pea soup.

His ribs went in a freak motorcycle accident
and a dwarf hacked off his ulnas
to make an obscure philosophical point.

The moral of my husband’s story:
Don’t squander your bones.
You will need them in a pinch.
You will need them for the wedding.